


What is a Demon, When They Love?

by tanarill



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Australia, Conversations, Drunkenness, Friendship, Love, Love Confessions, Miracles, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-01
Updated: 2008-04-01
Packaged: 2020-02-29 17:52:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18783181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tanarill/pseuds/tanarill
Summary: A cute fluff-filled thing from Good Omens. Aziraphale and Crowley interaction (or interaction leading into sexing, if you like). In a bar. In Sidney, Australia. (It doesn't have to be but I thought it'd be amusing)





	What is a Demon, When They Love?

**Author's Note:**

> Written in April 2008 for a short fiction fest; the summary is the prompt, and this is the result. It's apropos of the new Good Omens miniseries.

Crowley liked Australia. Possibly because it had been colonized by criminals, and that kind of thing gave a very peculiar flavor to a nation. There were vast stretches where the nearest human could be dozens of miles away. Also, just about everything could kill.

He was in Sydney for no particular reason. He was in Australia because it was just about the farthest he could get from England without going _down_ below, and at least it was honest about trying to kill him. He'd much rather be in England, of course-there was just something about those Celts-but a certain angel had told him in no uncertain terms to Get Out, so he had.

That had been months ago. How many Crowley wasn't sure. He hadn't been this drunk, for this long, since the Inquisition. Aziraphale had picked him up then. He wouldn't do the same now. Crowley had no reason not to be drunk, either, so he probably wouldn't sober up for a decade at least.

He signaled for another.

A voice behind him said, "Haven't you had enough to drink?"

"Go away, angel." Crowley wasn't in the mood to be teased with someone he could never have right now.

"No," said stubborn, stubborn Aziraphale. "Crowley, you haven't been home in months. I was worried about you."

"Great. You found me. I'm fine. You can stop being worried now."

"I'm more worried than ever, dear. This isn't healthy. The last time you did this was after Toledo."

"It's not like anything can kill me."

There was pause, and then the angel said, " _Right_ ," and miracled the alcohol out of Crowley's blood.

Crowley winced. "Did you have to do it all at once?"

"If that's what it takes to make you stop feeling sorry for yourself. What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing."

"Truth, demon."

"You want the truth? Fine. _I love yo_ u," even if that wasn't entirely true, even if he didn't know for certain. He wanted to hurt the angel right now, and that seemed the surest way to do it.

Only Aziraphale wasn't hurt. Shocked, so palpably shocked that he felt it, but not hurt. And then the angel said, "I know."

Crowley blinked, and turned to look at him. "You _know_?"

Aziraphale nodded. "I know. I love you too. But you never seemed to want to push it, and goodness knows you can't be made to do anything you don't want to, so . . . "

"You _knew_?"

"Oh. Dear. You didn't?"

"Angel?"

"Yes?"

"Shut up, get over here, and get drunk. Then we can talk about why you banished me from England."

Aziraphale, timidly, sat down.

(Most of the alcohol in the bar was subsequently surprised to find that it was not, in fact, beer, but a good selection of fine French wines.)

**Author's Note:**

> I am not allowed to strangle my professor. I am not allowed to strangle my professor. I am not allowed to strangle my professor. *headdesk*


End file.
